


Say You Love Me

by Heatherbel



Series: Say Yes [3]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex, caution may cause yearning, creative gift wrapping, festive fluff, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherbel/pseuds/Heatherbel
Summary: Marcus Pike has finally found himself lucky in love, and he's determined to make this a Christmas to remember.
Relationships: Marcus Pike/Reader, Marcus Pike/You
Series: Say Yes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054892
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	Say You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

> The world's biggest thank you to my very own Christmas angels jura-moon and yespolkadot_kitty. You beta read, you cheerlead, and you're the most fabulous friends I could ever have asked for. Merry Christmas my darlings.

December 3rd.

You gaze up at the ride sceptically, as the neon sign saying "Star Flyer" flashes brightly in the crisp night air.

"That thing..." You say, "you want me to go on that... _thing_ with you?" You wave a mittened hand erratically at the terrifyingly tall structure in front of you.

"Yes! Doesn't it look like fun?" Marcus' signature sunshine smile is painted across his face and you shake your head incredulously in response.

"Not exactly," you hum, and as you watch you can hear the people spinning 200ft above your heads screaming. Marcus assures you it's because they're enjoying themselves, but you remain entirely unconvinced.

He takes your chilly mitten covered hands in his gloved ones and gives them a gentle squeeze. "You're not being a 'fraidy cat, are you? You're usually the fearless one out of the two of us."

You harrumph lightly, and side-eye the ride with distrust. It definitely doesn't look like your idea of a good time, but now the gauntlet of 'fraidy cat has been laid down and you refuse to be beaten. You also know he knows that. But who are you kidding? You can't deny this man anything, and he looks so hopeful, his warm cocoa eyes shining out at you from under the brim of his woolly hat. It's Christmas and it's a one-time thing, you tell yourself: do it once and you'll never have to do it again.

You take a breath, "Okay," you say, let's do it," and he beams with happiness as he drags you along with him to join the queue.

Fifteen minutes later and you take your first uncertain steps back on solid land.

"God, that was fun!" Marcus exclaims as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

You make a noncommittal sound and Marcus' face falls.

"Oh no, you hated it, didn't you? I'm sorry. I honestly thought you would love it once you were up there."

It takes you a second to unclench your jaw enough to speak. "No, I didn't hate it, it was exhilarating and the view was gorgeous," you say, and you genuinely do mean it.

"Then what?" He asks, "I know that face, that's definitely your unhappy face."

"Marcus, I am the coldest I've ever been in my life. Who thought spinning 200ft up in the air was somewhere for people to be when there's snow on the ground? I can't feel my hands, or my feet and I think I may be mostly comprised of ice at this point." As you finish your rant your teeth start to chatter from the chill.

"C'mere," he grabs you and sweeps you up into a hug, pressing his icy, cold-flushed cheek into your own, his breath enticingly hot against your ear. "So, here's the plan, I'm going to hug you for a minute, then I am going to buy you a hot mulled cider and get some heat in you, and then I'm going to take you right home to bed and _really_ work on warming you up. Sound good?"

The warmth of his embrace is enough that you start to feel the first prickles of heat return to your poor, woe begotten extremities.

"Mmmm," you sigh. "Yeah, that sounds very good, but let's have hot chocolate, and you forgot the waffles."

"Waffles?" Marcus laughs.

"Yes, waffles, I saw a stall over there selling waffles with cherries and vanilla custard. After icifying your fiancé, I think a waffle is the least you can do."

"The very least," he chuckles, and sets about warming your freezing lips with a kiss.

***************************************

December 20th.

You hear Marcus's pained wail of your name from clear across the house, and dropping the spoon in the bowl of cookie dough you've been stirring you run, taking the stairs two at a time until you skid into your bedroom, fully prepared to provide first aid… before letting out a breath you didn't even realise you were holding.

Marcus is sitting cross-legged on the floor and you bite hard on your inner cheek at the sight.

"You all right, honey?" You ask, and he looks up at you with a pained expression.

"I was just trying to wrap this gift for my brother and I've got into a bit of a mess."

He is in a mess all right, gift tape everywhere, wrapping paper tangled round both him and the presents on the floor, but it's the bow haphazardly stuck at the side of his hair that is the piece de resistance, and you feel your restraint snap as you fall onto the bed in a pile of giggles.

You try to stop laughing, you really do, but every time you glance at him the snickers take over again and it must be nearly five full minutes before you get a hold of yourself.

"Are you _quite_ finished?" Marcus asks, with a small huff and a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and you nod. Once you've finished wiping the tears away you give his situation an appraising look and slide off the bed to start untangling him. He's actually taped two of his fingers together _and_ stuck them to the paper and somehow looped a ribbon around his arm at the same time.

"How is it possible for someone so smart and artistic to be so bad at wrapping?" You ask, as you free him from the last clutches of the tape.

"I don't even know. It's honestly like the paper fights back," he laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

"Do you want me to do them for you?"

You don't think you've ever seen him nod faster.

"God yes, normally I just shell out and have them wrapped at the store but this year, I thought I'd try it myself. That was clearly a mistake." He ruefully chucks the ruined paper in the trash can next to the dresser.

"It's okay, just you write the gift tags and then come over here and watch and learn, mister," you smile.

You carefully roll the paper out on the bedroom carpet, sizing it to the first box to be wrapped and cutting it neatly to size, while Marcus scribbles away at the tags behind you. You get the first parcel done and are just starting on the second one when his warmth presses up behind you and as you lean back you find your bottom now nestled on his lap. He rests his chin on your shoulder, watching as you carefully crease the paper and tear a strip of tape to hold it down.

You start explaining each step, it's only simple geometry after all, but as you continue Marcus's attention begins to wander, pressing soft kisses to the curve of your neck and running his hands up and down your sides, and it's delightfully distracting. His fingers work their way down your thighs to the hem of your dress and he runs the fabric through his fingers as you attach a bow to the parcel.

"I've not seen this on you before," he hums, and you nod as he licks the shell of your ear.

"It's new, I thought you might like it."

"Oh, I do," he says and then runs his hands under the fabric and up, groaning when he realises that you're not wearing underwear.

Your dress is a flirty little tartan thing, it seems slightly ridiculous to be wearing something so fancy around the house but it was so festive you couldn't resist, and as for the lack of panties, well you'd had plans for today... they hadn't been exactly like this, but this would definitely do.

One of his hands stays frustratingly still, warm skin curving over to cup your mound, and the other moves up to the buttons at your throat.

"Do these come undone? He asks, and you breathe a _yes_ as he begins to work on unfastening the buttons that run down the front of the dress.

You turn to kiss him, your head swirling with the velvet press of his lips and the soft slide of his tongue on your own, and you feel the slow burn of desire begin to coil deep inside you. Your dress sufficiently undone, he pulls the cups of your bra down and you gasp into his mouth as he gently squeezes the soft flesh, his fingers stroking and pinching at the hardened buds.

The hand cupping you is still unmoving but you can feel him through his jeans beneath you, pressed against the curve of your ass, hard and straining, and you know that he wants this as much as you do. You grind back against him desperate for more, feeling victorious at the moan you draw from his throat.

His fingers finally slide between your folds, dipping into your slick before running up and doing two glorious circles of your aching clit before stilling again, and you let out a broken moan of frustration.

Marcus breaks your kiss, the press of his lips hot as he runs them across your cheek and jaw.

"Did I say you should stop?" He breathes, and for a second you're confused, you're not the one who has stopped - he is.

He nods towards the abandoned paper in front of you. "You keep going and I will too."

It takes your lust-addled brain a second to compute what he's just said, but you're willing to do anything if he'll just keep doing that magic thing with his fingers.

You lean forward to grab the tape and the next present and he takes the opportunity to slide two beautifully thick fingers inside you, curling them _just_ so, and the spark of sensation is so overwhelming you nearly face-plant onto the paper, his hand at your chest the only thing keeping you from toppling over.

"Steady. You okay there?" He asks, and you can hear the pleased smile in his voice.

"Yeah." Even to your own ears your voice sounds high and reedy, but as you try again to wrap the parcel he takes that as permission to continue, the gentle slide of his fingers inside you and the stroke of his thumb at your clit making the task almost impossible.

The shake of your fingers is a stark contrast to the smooth movement of Marcus' as he builds the heat inside you, but you keep going, never wanting him to stop. You don't think you've ever wrapped a present more poorly in your life, the paper is bulging, the tape rumpled, but it would definitely qualify as wrapped, if you squint, and Marcus pulls you back into his chest murmuring praise as he speeds up his fingers. At the press of his tongue on your throat you feel his fingertips catch something devastating inside you and you're gone, lost entirely to the rolling waves of pleasure that sweep through you.

His fingers don't stop until you grab his hand to still it, your head easing back into his shoulder as your breathing steadies. As you catch your breath Marcus lifts you, pushing your knees over his own until you're straddling him and then shifts to unbutton his jeans.

With a slow deliberate stroke he eases you down onto him and the delicious stretch of his cock makes your eyes roll back in your head, and Marcus moans in your ear about how perfect you are, how hot and tight and sweet.

Your fingers grip into the meat of his thighs as he thrusts up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. He uses one hand to press you into his chest as the other moves back down to the point where you are joined, stroking gently and it takes only a minute more before you are gasping and clenching down hard, sparks of pleasure surging through your veins as you sigh his name.

Marcus bends you forward, pressing you into the floor as his hips slam into yours, his thrusts hard and purposeful as you shudder beneath him. The paper and ribbon under you crumples beneath your fingertips but all you can comprehend is the heat and stroke of his thick cock until he's pulling you tight against him, panting as he empties inside of you with a moan.

You sink into the plush carpet, enjoying the comforting press of his weight above you and Marcus rolls you both onto your side as his breathing steadies.

" _Fuck_ ", he says.

"What?" You ask.

"I think I just rolled onto the present you just wrapped." He snorts.

And you both laugh until you can't see straight.

*********************************************

December 25th.

As you open your eyes to the bright winter light streaming through the open blind, a flicker of thought jolts you wide awake, a steady flutter beginning in your chest. It's Christmas morning, and for once you are absolutely certain of your good girl status. Hadn't Marcus told you so in this very bed only last night? Just to sweeten the deal, you have no plans, not a single one - except to spend the day with your love.

You ease out of bed, and, wrapping your cosy robe around you, you follow your nose to the kitchen where Marcus is busy at the stove.

"There you are, sweetheart," he says with a smile, and when he kisses you with a sweet "good morning," murmured against your lips your heart feels like it is floating. You kiss him and kiss him again, this sweet man is infinitely smoochable you think, as you press him into the kitchen counter.

Eventually you eat, and you enjoy your breakfast but your heart is impatient, not for your own gifts but for his.

Your excitement is palpable as he pulls back the paper to reveal the artwork you'd commissioned for him by his favourite local artist, and his delighted reaction is everything you'd hoped it would be.

You sink into the sofa with a delighted sigh; you have a happy man, a stack of lovely presents, perfume, a cashmere scarf, some books, and you reach up to gently stroke the pendant nestled at the hollow of your throat. A silver disc, he'd had beautifully engraved with the Latin word _aeternum_ , meaning always. A reminder of how you'd met he said, and you couldn't imagine anything more perfect.

As you snuggle into his side Marcus shifts lightly.

"Sweetheart, I think you missed a gift," he says, and you look over at the tree.

"I don't see anything," you say, looking at the empty floor.

"Just there," Marcus says, pointing, "can't you see it?"

You get up to look but the floor is definitely empty.

"Right there on the tree," he says, and you are even more confused.

There aren’t presents on the tree, but then there, just where he's waving towards, you glimpse a tiny stocking hanging from a branch. You'd decorated the tree yourself only days before and the stocking is definitely new. You carefully unhook it from the branch. It's tiny, so small you can barely fit two fingers inside, but when you do they clasp around something small and round and then there is something brilliantly shiny glinting up from your palm. A trinity of diamonds shine up at you, set into what looks like a platinum band, and you feel all the air leave your body as you swing round in surprise, only to find Marcus behind you, already down on one knee. His fingers reach out and clasp your free hand.

"Sweetheart, we're already engaged…" You say.

"I know," he smiles, "but just… just let me do this, okay? Let me do it right this time. You deserve a proper proposal with a ring. You deserve everything, and if you'll let me I want to be the man to give it to you."

He presses a kiss into your palm and then continues.

"I think I fell in love with you before I even knew your name, and then I got to know you and you were everything I could have ever hoped for. I want to wake up to you every day, I want to tell my troubles to you, I want to laugh with you - and you're the only person in the world I want to help me wrap presents."

You laugh at that, but tears are running down your cheeks and you want them to stop, they're blurring your vision and you want to see this, to take in every last detail of this moment, to record every word he's saying.

"We make the best team, and I love you," he rasps. "You make every day better just by being in it. Would you please do me the honour of being my wife?"

Your lips are on his before he can say another word, and you drop to your own knees, kissing him, hoping each press of your mouth to his conveys just how much you love him, how much your heart is his.

He kisses you back, holding you close before pulling away with a laugh. "I take it that's a yes then?" He says, and you nod, unable to hide your grin.

"We really need to get better at that," you laugh.

"What," he says… "saying yes?"

"Mhmmm," you say, as you kiss him again.

"Aren't you glad we have a whole lifetime to practice?" he laughs.

And you are, you think, you really are.


End file.
